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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819688">Mini Prompt March</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nenchen'>Nenchen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, March prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:47:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nenchen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Little drabbles for march prompts, fluff nonstop.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Chronicles of Fireonica</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Angel, have I ever told you how you light up my life?”</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear, that is such a lovely thing to say.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, could you stop it right now? I’m trying to sleep.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Looking for me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An angel is picking apples.</p><p>He knows what the good ones looks like; shiny and round and bright red. The next apple is bigger than the rest, and feels somewhat harder to pick, until it falls down with a startled hiss and curls around his shoulders.</p><p>Ah, well then, something else shiny and round and beautifully red.</p><p>“Hello, angel. Looking for me?”</p><p>The angel hums.</p><p>“Not exactly, but I’m happy to find you nevertheless.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick.<br/>Comments and kudos keep me writing, so please give me anything you can :D No comment is unappreaciated!</p><p>Come visit my tumblr at <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens">goodduckingomens</a>.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wish granted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They are sitting in the garden. It’s dark around them, and both of them are looking up into the even more vast darkness of the night sky above them, and the pinpricks of light that keep it from being a complete void. They stopped talking a while ago, instead just being next to each other in comfortable silence, barely touching.</p><p>Crowley is laying on his back, while Aziraphale is sitting up straight as always.</p><p>A flash of light moves in the sky, quickly fading out.</p><p>“Oh, a shooting star! Don’t forget to wish for something.”</p><p>Crowley wiggles himself sideways until he lands on Aziraphale’s lap and can reach up to poke his shoulder and get him to look down at him.</p><p>“That’s just human superstition, angel. Nothing miraculous about a big hunk of stone burning up in the atmosphere.”</p><p>Aziraphale hums and pulls Crowley closer and up for a kiss.</p><p>“I don’t know about that, my dear. Seems like my wish has just been granted.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick.<br/>Comments and kudos keep me writing, so please give me anything you can :D No comment is unappreaciated!</p><p>Come visit my tumblr at <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens">goodduckingomens</a>.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Coming home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley pulled up the Bentley into the driveway of the cottage.</p><p>The two of them were just coming home from dinner at one of the restaurants in the area that truly met Aziraphale’s standards, celebrating a year of passed apocalypse and six months of living together. The both of them had gotten well and truly tipsy, enough that Crowley had to use a bit of power to persuade the waiters they didn’t need to call a cab.</p><p>Crowley had, regrettably, sobered up to drive them home, but Aziraphale had seen no reason to, as he’d put it, waste all of this wonderful silly-headedness. Well, and Crowley suspected he knew how Crowley secretly liked being able to support him, to hold him close for balance, just like he was now, getting the both of them to the front door.</p><p>“Almost home, just need to get the door,” he said, fishing for the keys with his free hand.</p><p>Only to find himself stopped from opening it, because Aziraphale had frozen up, wide-eyed.</p><p>“Aziraphale?”</p><p>The other didn’t seem to hear him.</p><p>“Home,” he whispered, almost reverently, the tone of his voice making Crowley’s insides twist.</p><p>“Yes, home, angel,” he whispered, trying for soft and reassuring, trying not to panic at the sudden tears welling up in Aziraphale’s eyes.</p><p>The other focused back on him.</p><p>“We really did it. We made a home,” he said, sounding completely choked by an unidentifiable mix of feelings, and in the next instant he was clinging to Crowley, who was feeling much the same.</p><p>“Not a home, angel. <em>Our home</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick.<br/>Comments and kudos keep me writing, so please give me anything you can :D No comment is unappreaciated!</p><p>Come visit my tumblr at <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens">goodduckingomens</a>.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Trapped together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Surviving an apocalypse together did something for nullifying one’s inhibitions, Crowley mused, nursing his fourth glass of champagne.</p><p>Across from him, the angel was animatedly talking about how he’d had to call a cab to the park earlier, while also making sure he kept mentioning how well and truly unmelted and exploded his Bentley had looked. Crowley had believed him the first time. It seemed more that Aziraphale wanted to reassure himself too.</p><p>The story came to an end, as did their champagne bottle, and as much as they both enjoyed the Ritz, it was time for somewhere more private and quiet.</p><p>They left and wandered the streets of London with the goal of one dusty old bookshop. (Or, the bookshop’s backroom to be precise. Which somehow smelled a lot more inviting than the rest of the bookshop had made a habit of. Like chestnut and chamomile.)</p><p>Conversation had died down to make room for a comfortable sort of quiet, each of them in their own thoughts but not so deep as to exclude the other. Crowley, for his part, was still marvelling that their plan had truly worked. Shunned by heaven and hell, now to be living on earth indefinitely. Never again to go back to their former sides. Funny how for other beings that would sound like a limitation, when for him it was the purest form of freedom. He shook his head at himself, grinning.</p><p>“What’s got you this chipper, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, humour in his voice.</p><p>“Ah, just thinking how we’re basically trapped here now. Earthbound. Doomed to stay forever,” he said, dramatic as he pleased.</p><p>Aziraphale sniffed.</p><p>“Well, if you feel trapped, I won’t stop you from expanding your horizon. Going off to space in that car of yours, or whatever other foolish plan you’re probably brooding about.”</p><p>Underneath his snippy tone, Crowley could hear a bit of hurt and worry.</p><p>He rolled his eyes fondly at the other and latched onto his arm.</p><p>“Nah, angel. We’re trapped together.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled his pleased little smile and threaded their hands together.</p><p>“Alright then, trapped together.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Enchanted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I just don’t get why she has to go over an ocean and travel the lands and visit the sun, moon and stars and THEN the dunce still forgets about her. I know, I know he’s enchanted but who does that?”</p><p>Crowley was laid out across Aziraphale’s lap, gesturing animatedly while protesting the plot of the Grimm’s fairytale Aziraphale had just read him.</p><p>Aziraphale blinked.</p><p>“Well, you would. Wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“Ugh, of course, angel, that’s not my point. My point is-”</p><p>Aziraphale interrupted him, pondering.</p><p>“And I would too, I suppose. Although with how many common cures there are, I’d try the most effective one first.”</p><p>Crowley made a complicated grunting-noise-and gesture combination that equated to something like “And that is?”</p><p>Aziraphale grinned, and leaned down, pecking him on the lips.</p><p>“True love’s kiss, of course.”</p><p>Crowley hummed.</p><p>“I don’t know about most effective, angel. Might need more data for a claim as absolute as that.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes good-naturedly and leaned down again to prove his claim and snog his demon quite thoroughly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. “Here's some cookies, and some very bad news”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale was in the library, reading, when it happened.</p><p>Crowley came in carrying a tray, on it some tea and a plate with three biscuits. His face was doing the thing where he was scowling to cover up another emotion but then the scowl was softened because he didn’t like to scowl at Aziraphale. He sat up a bit, put down his book and waited.</p><p>Crowley set the tray down and then looked up at Aziraphale.</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t say anything and just looked at Crowley.</p><p>“Alright, angel, here’s some biscuits.”</p><p>Aziraphale, ever the virtuous angel, was patient and waited.</p><p>“And some bad news.”</p><p>Crowley looked very uncomfortable by now. If he were a character in one of his books, Aziraphale was sure he’d be chewing on his lip and crossing his arms and all those other telltale signs. The telltale of the real Crowley in front of him, however, was just a slight movement of his eyebrow. Aziraphale stayed silent but raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Crowley caved.</p><p>“I ate the rest of them.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dancing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angels, as a general rule, don’t dance.</p><p>Demons however do, and Crowley had always been rather fond of it, if not necessarily doing it with other demons.</p><p>No, Crowley much preferred dancing with humans to that, to the writhing mass of smelly bodies, to the possibility of being backstabbed any moment. Not that that wasn’t also a possibility with humans, but at least they had usually better taste in music than hell did.</p><p>Dancing with humans however just lacked a certain freedom, an energy of letting go of everything. Not for them, no, but for him, he never truly could let loose, always had to stay human, hide parts of himself away.</p><p>He could have been himself with Aziraphale, probably.</p><p>But angel’s didn’t dance.</p><p>That was why Crowley preferred to dance with the stars. (And no, not like in the show with the same name, he much preferred the real deal.)</p><p>The stars had always danced to their own music, endlessly making rounds around each other, twirling, elegant and wild and unstoppable and beautiful, no judgement, no restriction, just existing and Crowley loved to join them.</p><p>Just waited until he was somewhere with no one awake or aware for miles, waited until they were out, and then he took off, dark wings and dark clothes hiding him from view. Soaring into the skies, dropping, twisting, looping, until he couldn’t tell which way was up or down or much else and he moved with the stars and the stars with him and he felt entirely himself, in the moment, wild and free and unstoppable and soaring like the stars and just a little less alone. And he was happy, the happiest he could ever be when dancing, so he thought.</p><p>But after the world almost ended, one angel, the only angel he would ever want to, joined him. And Crowley finally understood why so many dances require a partner.</p><p>And they were wild and free and unstoppable and happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Liminal Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Liminal space.</p><p>That’s what this was, Crowley thought, this bench on which they were sitting and drinking and waiting. Or well, maybe less the bench and more the space around the two of them, between the two of them. Undecided and in-between and infinite in it’s possibilities and finite in it’s existence. On the verge between what had ended and what was to come.</p><p>Aziraphale obviously hadn’t realized it yet. There was a comfort in him behaving just as usual, but partly it was also grating on Crowley. His entire being could feel the change that had just happened, while Aziraphale, stoic as ever, was still bound to how things always had been. Maybe a bit less so, with all the “ineffable plan” rules-lawyering and standing up to Heaven, but it didn’t seem that he’d fully grasped the entirety of it all yet. Crowley couldn’t fault him for it. And he would never pressure Aziraphale if not needed. The angel was smart enough to figure out things at his own pace after all. Crowley didn’t like the odd kind of distance this put between the two of them however. Both one step from reality, one to the left, one to the right.</p><p>“You can stay at my place, if you like,” he heard himself say, trying to bridge the gap.</p><p>“I don’t think my side would like that,” Aziraphale said, sidestepping in the way he always did.</p><p>“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do. We’re on our own side,” Crowley said, as gently as he could. Offering his hand, metaphorically of course, like he always had. Reaching into the space between them, offering an old new possibility.</p><p>Aziraphale stayed silent.</p><p>The bus arrived, and they got on, Crowley distractedly looking for a place to sit, when it happened.</p><p>The angel took his hand, not metaphorically but literally, took Crowley’s hand in his own, just before they sat down.</p><p>Crowley looked at their hands, intertwined, and then up at Aziraphale, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Aziraphale smiled at him, a smile that showed exactly how tired he was, and how scared, and how hopeful, and how happy.</p><p>“You are right, my dear. Our side.”</p><p>He squeezed Crowley’s hand gently, and they met in the in-between, and together, went into the what would be.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Breaking the rules</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had tried everything.</p><p>The buying him ice cream. The calculated accidental brushes of their hands. The inching ever so slightly closer on their bench. He’d even resorted to the mumbling obscenities under his breath at the ducks. Nothing had worked.</p><p>Aziraphale had done none of the usual unusual things he did now, or well had done and didn’t do now-now, and that was exactly the heart of the matter.</p><p>He inched closer once more, their hands touching, their legs touching, how could he be any clearer.</p><p>“Angeeeeeeel,” he said in a decidedly annoyed-and-not-whining-at-all tone.</p><p>“Oh, I am ever so sorry, my dear, but none of that in public. Apparently it’s decidedly undemonic, your rules not mine. Thus, I really can’t do any of the sort, you understand.”</p><p>Crowley sat there, next to his angel, brooding.</p><p>Which was more embarrassing. The affectionate behaviour or this.</p><p>“Alright I might be open to breaking the rules. Just a little. For you.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked at him with a considering look.</p><p>“No, no, really, I can’t. I could never disrespect you like that. Especially since I told you it was silly and you insisted, no really, you’ve made your boundaries quite clear.”</p><p>Crowley gaped at the angel. The bastard wanted him to admit it.</p><p>He fell back into his brooding silence, determined not to break. Even though the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand right next to his was as tempting as the sun gleaming off that first apple.</p><p>He wouldn’t admit to being wrong.</p><p>He. Would. Not. Break.</p><p>Aziraphale moved an increment away from him.</p><p>“Alright!” he groaned. “It. Was. Silly.”</p><p>Aziraphale beamed, and in the next second he was pulled flush against Aziraphale’s side, a kiss dropped in his hair.</p><p>“I am glad we agree.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. You remembered?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had always been fond of knowledge. And for most of his life he had also been fond of Aziraphale. So it wasn’t too surprising that over time, he acquired a lot of very specific knowledge relating to Aziraphale. Aziraphale himself, however, did seem surprised, when after the apocalypse, Crowley started to make use of it.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, have some of the coffee-flavour chocolates, I know they’re your favourite.”</p><p>“Oh, you remembered that? Don’t mind if I do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, come on, I bought us cards at the globe for Much Ado! It’s the anniversary of the time you let me win the coin toss after all!”</p><p>“Oh really, you act like it was the only time I did. I can’t believe you remember that time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Angel, I got you some new gloves so you can stop dithering about whether to ditch the old ones.”</p><p>“Oh, you remembered that? I don’t even recall telling you about it.”</p><p> </p><p>It was the same every time.</p><p>Surprise. Gratefulness. Joy.</p><p>And while he loved surprising Aziraphale with nice things, he sometimes did get concerned about how often the angel was surprised by it. Made him realize how little Aziraphale expected people to care about the things he cared about. He could only hope to fix it in time.</p><p> </p><p>They were having a nice evening in at the bookshop, arguing amicably with a bottle of wine, and something was off. Aziraphale kept huffing to himself irritatedly. Crowley had written it off as something external at first, like maybe a particularly annoying customer. But then the angel had started to give him looks when he didn’t think Crowley saw, the annoyance creeping into his voice. Until he heaved one more big huff and crossed his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright angel, what’s the problem?” he asked, feeling a tad annoyed himself at this point.</p><p>“Oh, you really DID forget then!”</p><p>“Forget? Forget what!”</p><p>“Our anniversary,” Aziraphale scowled.</p><p>“What? Which anniversary!” Crowley griped, baffled.</p><p>“Today marks the 3512<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the first time we ate a meal together.”</p><p>“What, no, that’s tomorrow!”</p><p>“No, no, I remember it with perfect clarity. We started before midnight, even if the other 6 hours of the feast were the next day. Thus, the anniversary is today. I cannot believe you forgot!”</p><p>The angel huffed once more and re-crossed his arms decisively, pouting.</p><p>Crowley gaped at him in disbelief, not quite sure what to say. Then he started to grin.</p><p>“You mad bastard. So you did expect me to remember after all.”</p><p>“Well, of course I do! That’s what it is like when you love someone, you remember important things and celebrate anniversaries and <em>stop laughing, I’m being serious</em>!”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Crowley wheezed. “It’s just, I can’t believe I thought I had to worry about you expecting so little when you were actually acting <em>coy</em>!”</p><p>The angel kept looking at him with a sour expression and Crowley only laughed harder.</p><p>“No, no, angel, you don’t understand I was actually starting to get worried! And then it turns out you’re just as much of a bastard as I thought you were and you get all technical at me about the 30 seconds the feast started before midnight. Come on, that’s hilarious. And also of course I got us reservations for Mongolian tomorrow. You know on the date that’s <em>sensible</em> for this anniversary.”</p><p>“Oh, so you did remember!” Aziraphale said, brightening immediately, which sent Crowley into another fit.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes. But his mouth was already twitching and it wasn’t long until he joined in.</p><p>When they finally both calmed down, Aziraphale was sitting up against Crowley, who had one arm around his shoulders, his own still shaking slightly from laughing.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed and snuggled closer into his side, placing a kiss on his jawline.</p><p>“I do appreciate all that you do for me. You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>Crowley hummed and hugged him closer, which also allowed him to sneak a look at his watch.</p><p>“I do, angel. Happy anniversary.”</p><p>“Happy anniversary, love.”</p><p>Crowley grinned and held his watch up to the angel’s eyes.</p><p>30 seconds after midnight.</p><p>“OH FOR THE LOVE OF-”</p><p>Crowley cackled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. An anomalous time event</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale in his long life (long meaning a bit over 6000 years since time had been started, really, and some before) had experienced many instances in which time seemed to get off-track.</p><p>For example the odd sensation of hours passing in the blink of an eye when there was food and wine and good conversation. The stretching of milliseconds into small eternities as you saw something awful happen. The way time slowed maliciously when you had to hold a conversation with someone boring. The odd feeling of reading a good book and being out of time entirely for a few hours. And, of course, the feeling when you truly were taken out of time, as Crowley had done for them at the airbase.</p><p>However, there was one anomalous time event he only had the pleasure to experience recently, and it was quickly becoming one of his all-time favourites: The sweet stretch of time that came of sleeping in on a Sunday morning. When time seemed to be encased in honey, still passing but only luxuriously slow, every second a deliciously sweet present.</p><p>Not that he was sleeping in, of course. If he would, he couldn’t enjoy this to its fullest extent.</p><p>Next to him, in the big bed of the cottage, where the air outside smelled of earth and ocean and plants and life, Crowley stretched just as luxuriously as time itself and yawned.</p><p>“G’mornin,” he mumbled, blearily opening his eyes.</p><p>Aziraphale put aside his book, in favour of cradling Crowley’s face to his and dropping a kiss on his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his jaw, and finally his mouth.</p><p>“Good morning,” he whispered. “Time to get up?”</p><p>The sleepy pile of demon underneath the blanket grumbled and moved and pulled him close.</p><p>“Nuh. Time to bask.”</p><p>“Ah, well then,” Aziraphale said, and cuddled the demon closer.</p><p>More time to indulge.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Inheritance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley was sitting in the office, draped in full mourning widow gear, complete with a long black veil, sniffling and occasionally dabbing at his eyes, completely ignoring the other people present who were glaring daggers at him.</p><p>“Well then, Misses Krepier, it seems that everything is in order, so I won’t keep you any longer and just give you the keys to the estate. My condolences to your husband passing so soon after marriage, but at least you are already in the will. As for you, gentlemen, I am sorry, but the will stated clearly that the estate was only to be auctioned off for charity in case no wife was present, so I’m afraid you came for nothing.”</p><p>Crowley thanked the man again with a high, quivering voice, signing the documents and grabbing the keys.</p><p>Then he left the office before he couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore.</p><p>His plan had gone exceptionally well, with only very little manipulation of official legal documents, and had allowed him to both piss off people and secure-</p><p>“Excuse me, madam, do you have a second to talk about your late husband’s collection of rare books?” came a familiar voice from his right as he stepped out of the building, and he turned.</p><p>There he was, Aziraphale, all polite smiles and very obviously with no idea who exactly stood before him. Crowley decided to have a bit of fun.</p><p>“Oh, how dare you! He isn’t even buried yet and already come the vultures, circling what’s left of him in this world. Oh, woe is me, this poor, weak woman, who now is left with obligations and no husband! Off you go, may you hang your head in shame!” he screamed, hysterically, accusatory, voice still high and quivering.</p><p>The angel had the decency to indeed hang his head in shame, and Crowley nearly lost it right there.</p><p>“Oh, oh dear, yes, of course, so sorry for your loss,” he mumbled, almost reflexively.</p><p>Then he stopped and narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“…Crowley? Is that you?”</p><p>Crowley, unable to hold back any longer, laughed.</p><p>“Oh, oh it IS you! You fiend! Impersonating a poor woman to steal her rightful inheritance, oh, you-”</p><p>“Ahh, shaddup, I’m not impersonating anyone. And <em>you’re</em> just annoyed with me because you already made first dibs arrangements with the charity people. Which, by the way, is a terrible, terrible charity, really angel, you need to start looking into that stuff. They support putting down their strays and all.”</p><p>Aziraphale huffed and puffed and would probably have blown a house down if Crowley hadn’t continued.</p><p>“And they promised dibs to at least 20 other people. Meanwhile <em>I</em> surely could be persuaded to give someone exclusive rights,” he purred.</p><p>The angel’s indignation evaporated like self-respect in a college bet.</p><p>“Oh! Oh, well then. Would you care join me for dinner, to talk about the details?”</p><p>“Only if you kiss my hand, Mr. Fell,” Crowley laughed. “I have to make the most of my potential to scandalize people while I’m still in mourning.”</p><p>The angel rolled his eyes, but he did bow down deeply, taking Crowley’s hand and placing a delicate kiss first on the wrist, and then, turning it, on the palm. Crowley was suddenly very glad for the veil hiding his face, even if, judging by the look Aziraphale gave him when he got back up, the bastard knew anyway.</p><p>“Well then, my dear, shall we? I know a lovely Italian restaurant just around the corner. We can talk business and you can tell me how you came to be the late Mr. Krepier’s wife.”</p><p>Crowley took the angel’s outstretched arm, making sure to wave daintily at the charity man glaring at the pair of them.</p><p>He threw his head back and laughed.</p><p>“Oh, you know what they say, angel. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas – except for legally binding contracts.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Take my hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had been very amused and terribly proud of his idea to get Aziraphale into a karaoke bar under the guise of spending time with Anathema and Newt.</p><p>Crowley had been even more proud of himself when he’d gotten Aziraphale to reluctantly agree to sing a song himself, but little had he known, for Aziraphale had actually counted on doing so for his infallible plan for a little payback. Which of course went off smoothly, because only evil contained the seeds of its own destruction, and Aziraphale’s motives were, as always, good and pure.</p><p>He grinned at Crowley who was currently looking at him completely stunned, plan executed perfectly thus far.</p><p>Only the last chorus left, and Aziraphale had a special plan for this.</p><p>He leaned down from the dingy little stage towards where Crowley stood, reaching out his hand as he sang.</p><p>
  <em>“Take my hand.”</em>
</p><p>Crowley reached up, but they weren’t quite close enough. Aziraphale leaned over further, linking their hands.</p><p>
  <em>“Take my whole life too.”</em>
</p><p>He had leaned over too far, he realized with a start, his eyes closing as he toppled over. He braced for the impact of falling onto the floor, but it never came. Instead he was caught by familiar arms. The music played on.</p><p>He opened his eyes again to look up at Crowley who was crouched slightly, cradling him against his chest. Smiling, he got up enough to sing the last line into the microphone, looking straight into Crowley’s eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“For I can’t help falling in love with you.”</em>
</p><p>The smile on Crowley’s face looked entirely too soft to not be kissed and so he did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. dreams/nightmares/visions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley was surrounded by warm and soft. Specifically, the one warm and soft personified that was his favourite. He was in Aziraphale’s arms, being held as the angel kissed him, feather-light touches of lips to skin, on his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his jawline, and finally his own lips, only for the cycle to then start all over again. He himself didn’t feel much like moving, instead just basking in the never-ending barrage of soft touches and warmth and love.</p><p>He could feel Aziraphale’s lashes tickling his cheeks and he scrunched up his nose and smiled, about to say something to him.</p><p>And then.</p><p>He woke up.</p><p>He groaned and turned over, blearily taking in his surroundings.</p><p>“Good morning, my dear.”</p><p>He smiled, despite himself.</p><p>“Morning, angel.”</p><p>“Did I wake you too early? Only it’s past ten already and you did say you wanted to make breakfast today.”</p><p>Crowley shook his head almost imperceptibly, limbs still heavy from sleep.</p><p>“Only a bit. Had a great dream.”</p><p>“Oh?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>“Mmmh. I was laying in bed-” The other snorted, but Crowley just continued, although his own smile did widen a bit. “And you were too. And you were just holding me in your arms and kissing me, soft kisses all over, quite enjoyable.”</p><p>The angel hummed, considering.</p><p>“Hmm, I don’t know, my dear. Doesn’t sound like a dream to me.”</p><p>Crowley blinked up at him, confused until he saw the expression on Aziraphale’s face.</p><p>Sly. Indulgent. Giddy.</p><p>“No? What else, then?” he said, faux-obliviously.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled back at him before pulling him into his arms and pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Crowley’s forehead, that somehow felt even lovelier than it had in his dream.</p><p>“A vision.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Playing games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The plan was perfect, Crowley just knew it.</p><p>He had made sure Aziraphale didn’t have any +2 cards left several rounds ago, and now that he was down to his last card, Crowley finally had found his opening. He was at least 99% sure all of the humans had a +2 left and he knew for a fact that every reverse card had already been discarded. The setup for the best move was complete, one that would make Aziraphale huff and puff and complain at him. It would be hilarious to watch him get worked up over a silly human game. And he, Crowley himself, would win the game right after, because his last card left would be a choose the colour. He tried to hold back his grin.</p><p>He played his second to last card.</p><p>“Uno.”</p><p>And then, he leaned back and watched the chaos unfold.</p><p>He’d put down a +2.</p><p>Shadwell, Adam, Brian, Pepper and Wensleydale followed suit, the children with manic glee in their eyes. Anathema took a second to consider her options and he almost got worried that she had a +4 left and would play it and ruin his plan. But then she simply put down another +2, looking at him with a certain calculating gleam in her eyes. Newt and Tracy followed suit, and now it was Aziraphale’s turn.</p><p>18 cards.</p><p>Aziraphale would have to draw 18 cards.</p><p>Crowley tried to keep his snickers quiet as he took in the expression on Aziraphale’s face, which was carefully neutral. Just short of a breakdown probably.</p><p>“Crowley. Love of my life,” the angel said, his voice betraying no emotion.</p><p>“Yes, angel?” Crowley drawled.</p><p>“We did promise to respect, love and honour each other, in good and bad times. To love and to forgive, didn’t we?”</p><p>Crowley cackled.</p><p>“Yes, yes we did.”</p><p>“Alright then, don’t forget about it. Uno uno.”</p><p>He put down his last card. It was a +4.</p><p>“Angel, I want a divorce,” Crowley said as he took 22 cards.</p><p>Aziraphale laughed, and kissed his cheek.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Mythical creature(s)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale was getting impatient.</p><p>Yes, impatient, that was it. He couldn’t allow himself to worry just because he hadn’t seen Crowley in over a month, the demon suddenly and without explanation cancelling all of their outings, stating he ‘didn’t really feel like going outside’.</p><p>No, they were talking on the phone every other day, weren’t they? There was no reason for him to get so restless just because he hadn’t seen the demon, hadn’t been able to hold his hand, or kiss his forehead or card his fingers through his hair. He knew Crowley was fine, and that they were fine and that should be enough, shouldn’t it?</p><p>But, well, there also was no reason for him not to visit the demon and bring him a bottle of good red. After all, the demon had only said he didn’t feel like going outside.</p><p>Aziraphale had made up his mind. He grabbed a bottle of red, and on second thought he also stopped by Crowley’s favourite bakery and got the two of them some treats.</p><p>And then he stood before Crowley’s door, ringing the bell.</p><p>And ringing it again.</p><p>And again.</p><p>He could hear the sound of the telly inside when he strained, and that was about all that kept him from just barging in, finally giving in to his worries.</p><p>“Crowley? Crowley it’s me!” he shouted instead of ringing the bell another time.</p><p>An odd squeak came from inside, then the sound of furniture crashing, and Aziraphale was inside before he could even think about it.</p><p>“Be right there, angel, just gimme a …..sec,” Crowley shouted back, pausing when he turned and realized Aziraphale was already there.</p><p>Aziraphale also paused because Crowley wasn’t alone.</p><p>He stood amidst some shards of whatever had previously occupied the coffee table, broken by the other occupant of the room. Who was slung over his shoulders, hugging his hips with it’s tail.</p><p>It was a very small, purple dragon.</p><p>It cuddled its head into the crook of Crowley’s neck, watching Aziraphale with distrustful eyes, hissing a bit for good measure.</p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said, feeling slightly faint. “I haven’t seen a dragon since Camelot. What-”</p><p>“Her parents abandoned the egg. Couldn’t just <em>leave</em> her,” Crowley said, and that explained both a lot and nothing at all.</p><p>He snapped to clean up the small-scale chaos the small, scaled creature had caused.</p><p>The dragon hissed again, then made a high, trilling noise as it wiggled its tiny body in order to snuggle further into the crook of Crowley’s neck in what Aziraphale now recognized as a protective stance.</p><p>Crowley booped it on the nose.</p><p>“Stop it you silly thing, he’s a friend. Or do you see me loosing it?”</p><p>Another inquisitive sounding trill.</p><p>“Yes, he’s safe.”</p><p>The dragon apparently decided this was enough, gave Aziraphale one more calculating look and then proceeded to move back into a more comfortable position and open its tiny jaws to a big yawn, exposing rows of pointy teeth, that had no right looking as adorable as they did.</p><p>“Shall we sit down while you explain some more? I brought wine, but maybe that’s not the best idea to have right now, I do remember how easy they set it on fire. But I also got us Ecla-”</p><p>“SHH!”</p><p>Aziraphale blinked at Crowley’s sudden outburst.</p><p>“Do not mention the e c l a i r s around her. She goes crazy for the stuff. No idea where she got that from,” Crowley whispered in a hushed tone, glancing at the dragon who had perked up at Aziraphale’s words.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled, about to say something teasing along the lines of he knew exactly where the dragon had gotten it from, but the tiny creature was sniffing the air and in the next second jumped into the air, spreading her wings and gliding to land on Aziraphale in one smooth motion, and Aziraphale barely had time to yelp before her head was in the bag.</p><p>He quickly took the bag in his other hand, using the now free one to gently hold back the dragon straining to get into the bag again, trilling delightedly. Her snout was already smeared with cream and chocolate.</p><p>“Now really, that’s no way to behave. You can’t have all of them.”</p><p>The dragon <span>ignore</span><span>d</span> his admonishments completely, trying to wriggle around his hand, apparently as enthusiastic about this new game as about the prospect of getting into the bag once more. She playfully snapped at his fingers, nibbling without actually hurting him.</p><p>Crowley snapped and the bag was gone, eliciting a high pitched pitiful whine and a glare.</p><p>Aziraphale pulled out his handkerchief to clean off her snout, which she very much didn’t appreciate, but his clothes surely would. She fled onto his back, snout luckily already mostly clean and cuddled onto his shoulder in a mirror of the position earlier. Another cheerful chirp and she settled in. He felt the press of her little body against his upper back.</p><p>“You are a menace,” he told her and her answering trill sounded just like Crowley usually did upon told this.</p><p>Crowley chuckled.</p><p>He sounded tired and when Aziraphale looked back at him, he suddenly noticed how tired the other looked too.</p><p>“Crowley!” he admonished. “You haven’t been sleeping at all, have you?”</p><p>Crowley blinked, slowly, as if he’d just realized that he was indeed tired.</p><p>“Huh. I haven’t. Kinda had my hands full here.”</p><p>Aziraphale shot him a look.</p><p>“You do know you could have asked me for help, don’t you?” he asked, a real question as much as a gentle reminder.</p><p>Crowley blinked again, even slower.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, I s’pose. I didn’t. I just didn’t think too. I was too used to keeping that secret I guess.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded, understandingly, because he understood the weight of old habits against the freshness of their side, where secrets weren’t necessary anymore.</p><p>“Well, I can help you now, if you want? Since my existence doesn’t seem to trouble your little charge here anymore,” he said, scratching the little dragons chin which earned him a delighted chirp.</p><p>Crowley just stared at the two of them, expression disbelieving and slightly put off.</p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, amusement creeping into his voice. “Are you jealous?”</p><p>Crowley only grumbled something as answer and Aziraphale could barely conceal his laughter.</p><p>“Come on, we really ought to sit down. Then you can rest a bit and tell me where in the world you found a dragon of all things,” Aziraphale said, gently steering Crowley towards the sofa.</p><p>He sat down, rearranging the little dragon (despite her outraged chirps at having to leave a comfortable position for a few seconds) to sit against his chest instead.</p><p>Crowley sat down next to him, rather awkwardly. As if the months of progress in their relationship hadn’t happened. It made Aziraphale sad, but he understood how easy it was to simply slip back into a different mindset. He himself had had to stop himself from sending Crowley off when the evening got late, or had to actively work up to taking Crowley’s hand in public. It was as hard to take as it was hard to let go.</p><p>“Come here?” he suggested, voice gentle.</p><p>For a moment the other hesitated, and Aziraphale worried he wouldn’t. Then Crowley let out a deep, weary sigh and melted into his side, his head in the crook on Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale laid his arm around him, gently petting his shoulder.</p><p>The dragon voiced a disgruntled little trill at her favourite warm place being occupied, but then soon discovered she could instead curl up in the space where they met, resting against both of their bellies rather comfortably.</p><p>Crowley put a hand on her scales and she cooed, satisfied, before closing her eyes, apparently deciding it was nap time.</p><p>Crowley himself didn’t look much more awake.</p><p>“We can talk later if you want?” Aziraphale whispered into his hair.</p><p>“Mmmhn,” Crowley grumbled. “Nah, I wanna tell you. Who knows what you’ll think up if I go to sleep without telling you.”</p><p>Aziraphale tried not to jostle him too much as he chuckled.</p><p>“I will admit, I am curious.”</p><p>“’Course you are,” Crowley yawned. “’member when Arthur got really into the whole dragon slaying thing? It was like every wannabe knight had to have killed at least three of them to even be considered something.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded, pained at the memories.</p><p>“I tried to stop him, but heaven forbid me. They really were quite obsessed with the heroics at the time.”</p><p>Crowley just hummed.</p><p>“Yeah, it was pretty gruesome. And the smell of their corpses, really, awful. As if the air quality wasn’t bad enough.”</p><p>Aziraphale could feel the words left unsaid and smiled, a little sadly. He opted not to say anything, instead only holding Crowley a little tighter.</p><p>“And I, you know, I liked the dragons. Marvellous flying lizards, breathing fire, causing chaos and all that. So I made them a space.”</p><p>“A space?” Aziraphale asked, puzzled.</p><p>“Yeah, you know, a space. Liminal one, to hide them. So they could just be.”</p><p>He made a twirling gesture with his hand, until the dragon caught it with her tail and dragged it back to her back.</p><p>“Greedy little thing,” he said, sounding not at all put out, and something tugged at Aziraphale’s heart.</p><p>“You. Crowley you saved them.”</p><p>Aziraphale hadn’t meant to sound quite as astonished, but he was.</p><p>“Wasn’t that much effort,” Crowley sniffed in a way that told Aziraphale it had been really quite a big effort but Crowley would prefer not to hear words like ‘nice’ or ‘good’ right now.</p><p>So he just hummed, letting Crowley interpret the answer.</p><p>“Shaddap,” the other murmured against his collarbone, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but drop a kiss into his hairline.</p><p>“Hush. Sleep now, dear,” he whispered. “You deserve some rest, you ridiculous, remarkable thing.”</p><p>Crowley did make a low, protesting noise at that, but his breath was already deepening, and soon he was out like a light, Aziraphale still petting his arm.</p><p>And between them, the tiny sleeping dragon purred.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I need you all to know that the little dragon is named Fireonica.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Diary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anathema had been missing an important book in her life.</p><p>Not that she didn’t think burning Agnes’ book hadn’t been a good decision, no. She doubted it, of course, sometimes, but whenever she truly thought about what keeping it would have meant, she got a strong urge to toss something else into a fire. No, she was quite alright with not having that book in her life. Nor the old one, which she’d sent back to her mother.</p><p>However, when your entire life has been built around an important book, filled with events of this world, it was hard to not feel off-kilter when there wasn’t a book any more.</p><p>That was why Newt’s mom had recommended for her to take up journaling.</p><p>Anathema wrote her journal just as chaotic as Agnes’ book had been, full of things to come in the form of a little calendar, and things that had been, as a diary, and everything else that seemed important or worth or just fun writing down. Recipes for home-made sherbet lemons, little sketches of the cottage, little things Newt had told her, jokes she wanted to remember, ideas on how to improve the use of her pendulum, protest organization plans, all in one small book she kept with the care that had been learned her whole life.</p><p>She couldn’t help but compare the two sometimes, still. It must seem silly to outsiders, for her to care so much about a journal like this, maybe even more than she ever had for the prophecies, but the reason for it was simple. Instead of making her a protagonist in the apocalypse, the journal simply documented her way as she set off to be the protagonist of her own life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. "Is this blood?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is this blood?” a high-pitched, slightly nasal voice comes from somewhere around the height where the table ends.</p><p>Crowley looks away from where he’d been previously watching the crowd (and not at all Aziraphale) and sees a small child, staring at his glass.</p><p>“And who wants to know?” he drawls, already finding himself a lot more entertained than he’d been thus far at this odd summer garden fest gathering thingie.</p><p>The girl fixes him with a considering look. Calculating. Smart.</p><p>“I’m Pepper’s sister. Mum says I shouldn’t tell strangers my name.”</p><p>Crowley negates to tell her that telling them your sisters name isn’t much better. He can respect a small act of rebellion. He takes another sip out of his glass.</p><p>“But she didn’t say anything about asking questions like ‘Is this blood?’, did she?”</p><p>“Not about that one. She only says no stupid questions. But it’s not a stupid question, so I’m allowed to,” she says, with the kind of firm conviction only small children or CEOs seem to have.</p><p>He hums, considering.</p><p>“Then let me ask you one too. Why would you think it’s blood? Could be anything. Could be strawberry soda.”</p><p>She gives him another look.</p><p>“It’s not, it’s not fizzy. And strawberry soda is pink. Like fairy juice.”</p><p>Crowley idly thinks that he would be more concerned by someone drinking fairy juice than blood. But the girl interrupts him with her very straight forward explanation.</p><p>“Pepper says you’re very old. Like super old. And you’re wearing all black, and sunglasses. So I thought you might be a vampire. And vampires drink blood.”</p><p>Crowley grins, making sure not to show his teeth and her eyes narrow.</p><p>“Well, depends. What do you call a vampire?”</p><p>An hour later they still haven’t found common ground on how a vampire is defined, but Crowley has somehow ended up with thistles braided into his hair, because, as the girl had earnestly told him ‘they matched his personality’.</p><p>Soon enough her mother comes around to get her home, and Aziraphale finds him with a new glass of red wine. (Apparently some children’s bedtime is even before the sun has set. Wonderful material for causing some chaos.)</p><p>When she turns to wave goodbye, Crowley makes sure to raise his glass, and give her a wide smile. And if maybe his teeth look a bit pointier than normal teeth in the evening sun, well. Who is he to not play into a child’s imagination?</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Bodyswap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, how’d you propose we do it then?” Aziraphale slurred.</p><p>The both of them were spectacularly drunk already, two hours after shaking on the arrangement and starting the befitting celebrations. The world felt pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, less sharp than usual and the last thing Crowley wanted to do was think about technicalities. He wanted to think about results, like getting to spend more time with the angel and less time running around and even less time on a horse’s back and even less less time falling off and getting dragged around by said horse. And maybe some more time for Aziraphale to get dragged. Crowley was certain that would look hilarious.</p><p>“We just. Go. N’ do the thing,” he grunted, sinking even deeper into the cushions.</p><p>“Buuuuuuuut willit-” the angel was interrupted by a burp, which Crowley, who rarely saw the angel burp found astonishingly funny. The way his face scrunched up! Aziraphale levelled him with a look, which reminded Crowley more of an angry bird. Little puffy bird puffing up its feathers.</p><p>“-willit work? Never done anything infernal. Wouldn’t want the stench on my corporation.”</p><p>“Wha? Stench??”</p><p>“Yes, the stench!”</p><p>“I don’t stench! I smell wonderful, like roses and sunshine and butterfly fartsssss,” Crowley hissed, outraged.</p><p>“Someone’s farts anyway,” the angel murmured and Crowley gasped, offended.</p><p>“And you smell like- like- like a thunderstorm! So there.”</p><p>“Yes, that would be the ozone,” Aziraphale said, enragingly unaffected. “But really. We need to- to think this THROUGH. Havta be smart about it. Dunno how to call up infernal energy. Tried before.”</p><p>“You have? Why???” Crowley leaned forward, indignation forgotten at the prospect of bastardy.</p><p>“Ah, you know. Terrible cooks, book-withholding fiends, the usual enraging things.”</p><p>Crowley snorted.</p><p>“Should’ve known.”</p><p>“Yes, well,” the angel sniffed.</p><p>Crowley’s mind was spinning.</p><p>“Why didn’t you say? Before we shook on it?”</p><p>“Well, I AM quite confident we can find a solution between the two of us, if we actually <em>think</em>,” Aziraphale said haughtily, in a manner that indicated Crowley better have an idea.</p><p>Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a long minute, mind completely blank.</p><p>Course it didn’t work for Aziraphale. He was so soft. So pretty. And, Crowley would never admit it out loud, he really did smell nice. Unlike Crowley’s corporation.</p><p>“We could swap,” he blurted out, suddenly.</p><p>“Swap??” Aziraphale said, confused.</p><p>“Swap corporations. Never had trouble doing demonic things in my own.”</p><p>Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley could almost see the gears turning in his head.</p><p>He reached out a hand.</p><p>“Lend a hand when needed?” he said with a lopsided grin.</p><p>Aziraphale took it. And kept holding it, not doing anything. Just staring at it. Moving his thumb over Crowley’s knuckles.</p><p>“Uhhh, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, trying to hide the whatever it was that was bubbling up his throat. Probably something embarrassing.</p><p>“Oh, right!” Aziraphale said, startled.</p><p>A tingle spread in Crowley. This wasn’t terribly unusual, there were a great many things that made him feel tingly, from nice massages to itchy plants. But this tingle spread from his hand.</p><p>“Ohhh this feels weeeird,” Crowley said.</p><p>Or had it been him? It had certainly been his voice but now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure anymore. His sight blurred and cleared again and suddenly he saw himself, doing that nose scrunching thing Aziraphale did.</p><p>“Ah. How odd,” his own voice said.</p><p>“Yuuuuuuup.”</p><p>Crowley was kind of glad they were still drunk. That way he didn’t have to question why he suddenly felt so comfortable. So soft. So right.</p><p>“Try it then,” he said, his tone sounding wrong with this voice. Too harsh.</p><p>“Hmm?” He, no, Aziraphale asked, stopping to touch his face, his body.</p><p>Which was probably good because it made Crowley feel odd things indeed.</p><p>“Something infernal. Dunk a duck or whatever.”</p><p>The reproachful glare looked fundamentally wrong on his own face. Luckily it soon was replaced by consideration, and then a grin that could even be sort of read as mean.</p><p>Then the other snapped, and suddenly there was a book in his hand and a certain gleam in his eyes.</p><p>“Private collection?”</p><p>“Private collection,” the other grinned. “I think I might find myself quite amenable to doing this more.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Making plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale and Crowley were lightly drunk. They’d just come from their celebratory meal, accompanied by celebratory beverages at the Ritz, and now they’d gone to the bookshop and opened another bottle of something bubbly and sweet, to match the mood.</p><p>Crowley was reclining on the sofa, boneless and half swallowed by the cushions, and Aziraphale had joined him, posture more relaxed than Crowley had seen in millennia without the prerequisite of quite a lot more of alcohol, or a particularly captivating book.</p><p>And Crowley’s legs were laid out over his lap. Fancy that.</p><p>“You know,” Aziraphale said. “It would be nice to have a cottage.”</p><p>“Hmm, countryside. Or seaside. Or both. Somewhere with better air quality.”</p><p>“Bit more room. Bit more greenery. I do like greenery.”</p><p>“Do you?” Crowley grinned. “Then why does every plant you keep in here die?”</p><p>“Because it’s inside! You don’t have to worry as much about outside plants. They always get enough sun. And they get the rain.”</p><p>Crowley, who knew a lot more about how outside plants worked, just hummed.</p><p>“And I like the smell everything gets when it rains in the country. Petrichor. Such a nice word too. There would be petrichor in the countryside. And outside plants.”</p><p>“Uninterrupted reading time for you.”</p><p>“Long, empty roads to drive on for you.”</p><p>“Little farmers markets full of local produce.”</p><p>“Maybe a vegetable garden.”</p><p>“Room to spread out. Maybe flying.”</p><p>“Nice places for a picnic.”</p><p>“Maybe an AmDram society. Don’t give me that look, I know you’ve been itching to join one for at least the last century.”</p><p>“You could join too. Oh, and we could learn how to cook.”</p><p>“I can cook, angel, what do you think I have a kitchen for-”</p><p>Crowley stopped, hit by realisation.</p><p>“Angel,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “Angel, are we making plans for the future? Our future? Together?”</p><p>Aziraphale blinked, slightly surprised. And then a smile spread on his face. A smile that went from surprised, to pleased, to delighted, to beaming.</p><p>“Well. I suppose we are.”</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I told you I took care of X, but I didn't, and now I need your help</h2></a>
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    <p>Crowley was in a brilliant mood, despite the rain he had come home to. One month off to Egypt, setting some stuff in motion, with plenty of nice, hot sun had really put him in high spirits. Nothing could possibly ruin his mood.</p><p>“Aziraphale!” he called out. “I’m back.”</p><p>There was a noise like quite a lot of clattering metal from somewhere around the backdoor, and then the noise of said door quickly getting opened and closed.</p><p>“Hello, dear! How was your trip? You need to tell me all about it right away. And then you should take a nap, don’t you think? Humans always go on about how much better you sleep at home, you must be exhausted.”</p><p>Aziraphale was rambling, and Crowley was suspicious.</p><p>His suspicions were not at all alleviated by the fact that when he entered the kitchen, where Aziraphale’s voice was coming from, Aziraphale was completely and utterly drenched.</p><p>“Ah,” Aziraphale said when their eyes met, hand half raised to miracle himself dry.</p><p>He smiled, and this smile was so fake it physically hurt Crowley.</p><p>The only reason he didn’t immediately make a move to embrace the other and comfort him was that he was suspecting there was something Aziraphale wasn’t telling him, and that this thing would probably be quite annoying to deal with.</p><p>Also, he wanted to retain the heat for a while and Aziraphale was still wet.</p><p>“Everything alright,” he asked instead, casually leaning against the counter.</p><p>“Well, of course, all tip-top over here. Perfectly tickety-boo.”</p><p>Crowley raised a single eyebrow.</p><p>Aziraphale huffed.</p><p>“Except maybe one small, almost irrelevant issue.”</p><p>Crowley sighed.</p><p>“Angel, you can tell me. You know that. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can deal with it.”</p><p>He scanned the room once more for any signs of danger, but there were none.</p><p>Aziraphale muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Not sure about that’. Then he heaved a sigh.</p><p>“Oh, alright. You do remember when you asked me to look after your garden? And I promised I would?”</p><p>“You also told me how well it was going in every single one of our calls, yes, I do recall,” Crowley said, almost in mind to laugh at the pout that followed.</p><p>“Right, well, you see, it rained the entire time you were away, so I didn’t think I really needed to <em>do</em> something,” Aziraphale sniffed.</p><p>Crowley grinned.</p><p>“You got caught up rereading your entire Wilde collection again and completely forgot about it, didn’t you.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s face was displaying a frankly hilarious mix of outrage and flusteredness.</p><p>“Well, anyhow, I was sure it was fine, but I went to check on it nevertheless, just for you, and, ah, well. I think it’s best you see for yourself.”</p><p>Aziraphale opened the door.</p><p>The first thing Crowley noticed was a waft of smell. Fresh. Like toothpaste.</p><p>Then his eyes focussed and he hissed, almost involuntarily.</p><p>“I tried to miracle it away, but I think that only made it worse,” Aziraphale said in a grave tone, moving to stand beside him, now dry and warm.</p><p>“I might need your help.”</p><p>Crowley looked once more at his garden, completely overgrown by mint, and at the downpour of rain.</p><p>Then he looked at Aziraphale, who looked deflated. And soft. And warm.</p><p>“You know what, I am a bit exhausted. Join me?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked at him and finally smiled again, a smile that warmed Crowley more than the sun anywhere could ever hope to.</p><p>“Of course.”</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. I found your contact info in a book</h2></a>
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    <p>“Hey, angel, guess what? I found your contact info in a book today!” Crowley called out as he entered the bookshop.</p><p>“Really now, did you? Did you pick up a telephone book? I thought those were only for those of us stuck in the last century?” Aziraphale called from the backroom, his voice dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>Crowley made his way back there, sitting down on the couch.</p><p>“Ah, no, don’t you worry I would never revert back to the old ways.”</p><p>He winked at Aziraphale, who rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Oh, don’t tell me they finally managed to put me in the rare book collectors catalogue. They’ve been trying for decades at this point and I don’t recall what my last stalling manoeuvrer was.”</p><p>“You faked your death, and a few years later the committee disbanded under mysterious circumstances, don’t think you have to worry about that one anymore.”</p><p>“Oh, jolly good! Then do tell me, what book is it?”</p><p>Crowley grinned, deciding to have a bit of fun.</p><p>“Oh, no, you have to guess.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked at him in exasperation, lips twitching.</p><p>“Alright then. Some kind of legal documentation thing?”</p><p>“Nop.”</p><p>“A collection of letters?”</p><p>“Mhh mhh.”</p><p>“Did you find one of my old diaries in a museum anywhere? If so, you aren’t to read it, those contain highly private information.”</p><p>“Of course, angel, I’d never think to. But also no,” said Crowley, making a mental note to talk to his curator contacts soon.</p><p>Aziraphale wrinkled his forehead in thought.</p><p>“Hmmm. Oh, maybe the book Oscar promised to write for me finally got published? Though I have no idea why that one would contain my address.”</p><p>“Nope, sorry. I do have an inkling that one wont ever resurface again. Probably burnt for the contents, in light of all that happened. I mean, it was pretty risqué.”</p><p>“Oh, how would you know,” the angel stopped and stared at Crowley, who stared back until he had to avert his eyes.</p><p>The angel grinned, satisfied.</p><p>“Please do bring whatever you have by tomorrow. It will be wonderfully nostalgic to go through it.”</p><p>Crowley rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Sure, angel. Shall I also provide snacks and beverages?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, which Aziraphale completely ignored.</p><p>“Oh, that would be lovely.”</p><p>‘Oh, that would be lovely.’ Crowley mouthed in an over-exaggeration of Aziraphale.</p><p>Both of them knew it was exactly what he would do however.</p><p>Meanwhile Aziraphale was thinking again.</p><p>“Need a hint? You definitely know it is in there.”</p><p>“Oh dear, don’t tell me it’s one of the library books-”</p><p>He clamped his mouth shut. Crowley leaned forward, very obviously interested in hearing more.</p><p>“Oh, just tell me already, I am not in the mood for these games, you wily serpent!” Aziraphale said, very obviously flustered.</p><p>Crowley laughed and pulled a small booklet out of his pocket.</p><p>“The wedding program, angel. I told you it would be a book with all the things you wanted to put in.”</p><p>“Oh! It looks lovely, let me see,” Aziraphale said excitedly.</p><p>Crowley quickly snatched it back, clutching it to his chest.</p><p>“Now, now, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now I’m dying to know what your contact information does in library books.”</p><p>The angel blushed.</p><p>“Ah, well. I only put it there in case someone might want to sell them sometime, just a card. I’ve had my eyes on some in Oxford for the last few centuries, but the bother with libraries is they usually stay intact for so much longer than private collections. It’s only to be seen by people like librarians, or curators-”</p><p>“-or wannabe thieves?”</p><p>Aziraphale flushed and pouted and Crowley grinned.</p><p>“I should make sure to mention this as a fun little anecdote in my speech, you know, about all the reasons I love you.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure that will be very nice, dear,” Aziraphale said, calculatedly disinterested. There was a certain gleam in his eyes. “Just know that I will make sure to put just as much love and care into mine.</p><p>“Ngk.”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's it! Thank you guys for joining me in this month long thing, it was great fun!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feel free to tell me about spelling errors, grammar errors and britpick.<br/>Comments and kudos keep me writing, so please give me anything you can :D No comment is unappreaciated!</p><p>Come visit my tumblr at <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens">goodduckingomens</a>.<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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